


A Weekend with Dad (and His Partner)

by Madame_Forget_Me_Not



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Children, M/M, Meeting the Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Forget_Me_Not/pseuds/Madame_Forget_Me_Not
Summary: When Greg's weekend with his daughters coincides with his partner's only weekend off, it makes meeting the family that much more pressing and immediate. How will Mycroft react while dealing with a preteen and teenage girls?Written years ago, transferred from ff.netI don't know if I will return to this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of sequel to May I Have This Dance? though it can be read as a stand-alone. The idea of parent!Greg and Mycroft trying to fit into that dynamic was an interesting idea in my mind, and considering the unprecedented success of my other Mystrade story, I decided I would attempt to dabble a bit more.

Friday: Part One

It was Lestrade's weekend with his two daughters, and it was also Mycroft's only weekend off for the next two months. Typically, the Detective Inspector tried to keep his lover and his children separate. Although he loved both parties, Mycroft never seemed the paternal type, and he was nervous he would scare the government worker away. That, or his daughters would reject him, possibly thinking Lestrade was trying to replace their mother with someone else, although he would never try to change the girls' parent. He just couldn't live with someone whom he couldn't trust.

"May I ask why you try to keep us away from each other? Alexandra and Adeline seem like perfectly well-behaved children," Mycroft said from the doorway. Lestrade hadn't heard him come I, so he jumped. He turned to see his lover leaning forward onto his customary black umbrella, blue-gray eyes focused carefully on the man in front of him. Lestrade loved those eyes, how they seemed to see through all his layers, stripping him bare both physically and mentally.

"They are…though you've never met them…"

"They are important to you, and thus they are important to the government," Mycroft negated the feeble excuse. Lestrade's eyes got large for a moment before he chuckled.

"The government?" he walked closer, wrapping his arms around the waist-coat clad torso.

"Well, me; same thing, really," Mycroft grinned in that dangerous way of his. Greg wasn't really surprised that his daughters had been watched; in fact, if he had thought about it, he would have asked for the surveillance. In a way, he was grateful that Mycroft had taken on all aspects of his life, in his own way. This was the same care he showed his own brother, someone Greg knew Mycroft loved as much, if not more, as he loved Greg. It was a bigger deal than they were choosing to make of it.

"Gregory, your daughters are fine to come here. They're perfectly welcome, as a matter of fact. I don't quite understand why you are so nervous. Are you ashamed you are with a man?" Mycroft didn't look affronted, but Greg still felt like he was smacked as he reeled back.

"What…no! Never! Dammit, My, I came to terms with my sexuality back before uni!" he rolled his eyes.

"Then what is it?" Mycroft questioned, seemingly unaffected, but Greg could see the frustration he was hiding in his shoulders. He had become perfectly still, a sneer playing at his lips.

"Just…no offense, you don't seem the paternal type. I've never seen you around children; Sherlock doesn't count, even though he acts like one, and you still see him as your baby brother. It's not the same. And I don't want to overwhelm my girls. Addie, Alex, and you are the most important parts of my life. I don't want anyone to be unhappy, especially not with each other," Greg looked at the ground, not wanting to look into Mycroft's eyes. When he got the courage to, Mycroft's face was calculating, but otherwise blank.

"Do you trust me, Gregory?"

The question was slow, giving the man plenty of time to think through the answer.

"With my everything."

The response was pure and genuine, and well-thought through.

"Then I ask, with your permission, to spend the weekend here at our house with you and the girls."

"Alright," he nodded.

"Thank you; what time are we to expect them?"

"In an hour; Dawn will be dropping them off," Greg pressed his lips to Mycroft's for a brief moment. A sigh escaped his lips. "I love you."

"I love you as well, darling," Mycroft held Greg to him in a rare display of emotion. Greg knew he must have given the correct answer if this was the response. Although Greg was typically the "big spoon" in their arrangement, there was a part of him that loved to be held, and the scent of Mycroft's cologne was a welcome sensory overload.

XXX

The knock on the door to the house was loud, and it echoed. Mycroft, although typically very secure, found himself vulnerable where it came to his Gregory, and he was never more grateful for the large estate that had been handed down in the family. He was proud of it, just as he was proud of his appearance. He was in his Good Suit, which really was a fine collection of expensive pieces of fabric, specifically tailored to show the cut of the body that Mycroft had recently defined so well as he came to his target weight. Gregory was in the loo, so Mycroft answered the door.

Dawn stood there in front of the girls, trying not to look too impressed by the grounds. Unfortunately for her, she was failing. Mycroft looked her over, noticing that her blond hair was done nicely, loosely curled. Her makeup was heavy to cover up the bags under her eyes. Her outfit was cheap, but flattering, accenting her breasts, but hiding the small amount of weight gain around her middle. Her hands were shaking, and her teeth and fingernails had yellowed slightly. So trouble in paradise: the gym teacher had moved in, but things weren't going that smoothly. This resulted in late nights and stress, requiring caffeine and nicotine. She was dressing like she was trying to get attention, so either she wanted Gregory to think everything was going well or she wanted him back. However, Gregory wasn't that perceptive, but he knew his ex-wife, and even he would be able to tell she was trying too hard, so the first option was out. Mycroft's gut clenched as he realized this woman viewed him as competition.

"Hello, Dawn," he smiled courteously. "Alexandra, Adeline, it's lovely to meet you. Please come in."

Alexandra was the oldest at fourteen. She was precocious, Mycroft knew, although she wasn't near the level of Sherlock or himself. She had dark hair cut in a pixie cut with blue eyes like her mother. She wore a Doctor Who t-shirt and carried a handful of novels by James Patterson and Rick Riordan outside of the backpack she had on her shoulders. Mycroft felt like Dr. Watson would love her company. They would get along swimmingly.

Adeline was younger at eleven. She had her mother's blond hair that fell down her back in a loose braid. She had her father's hazel eyes. She was as smart as her sister, but her brain was more hardwired for her math and science classes, as seen by her school reports. She was dressed in a lavender, long-sleeved shirt and a jean skirt. She tried to appear older, likely to fit in with the friends Alexandra brought around. She was a politician in the making, if Mycroft got to her soon enough-

He cut off that train of thought. Gregory had asked him for no work this weekend, especially if it was related to his daughters. Besides, he wasn't the Holmes brother who played Evil Scientist on those closest to him…

"You're dad's boyfriend, right?" Alexandra asked, making eye contact.

"Alex, the terminology is  _partner_! You're going to  _offend him_!" Adeline hissed, then seemed to pause in her tracks. "Or…her. Pardon my rudeness, but how do you identify, relating to gender?"

Dawn seemed a bit shocked by Adeline's approach but didn't move to reproach her.

"I identify as a male, and I am not offended, but thank you for your concern," Mycroft resisted a smile; he  _liked_ her! "And boyfriend, partner, any of it is fine. We aren't picky."

"It's not like they're married, honey, so it doesn't really matter," Dawn's comment, on the surface, was nice enough, but Mycroft heard the double meaning and caught her look. He resisted the urge to snap off with the fact that it wasn't like she and her gym teacher were going to be getting married anytime soon.

"Of course it matters, mum! Political correctness is key," Adeline seemed frustrated. Oh, Mycroft understood that.

"You talk about political correctness, and we don't even know his name," Alexandra rolled her eyes.

"My apologies," Mycroft bowed his head slightly. "My name is Mycroft Holmes."

"Alex Lestrade, Addie Lestrade," Alexandra introduced them, offering her hand; Mycroft shook hers, followed by Adeline's.

"Mycroft, if you don't mind me asking, what are your and Greg's plans this weekend with the girls?" Dawn asked.

"Tonight we will have a fairly lax night, just spending the time here on the manner, perhaps take the horses out if Alexandra and Adeline would be amenable," Mycroft's lips twitched upwards as he heard gasps of surprised pleasure. "Then we will order food in. Tomorrow, we will be attending a few museums, potentially visiting Buckingham Palace for a private tour."

"Buckingham  _Palace!_ " Adeline squealed.

"Yes, Adeline," Mycroft said, "I work there. I hold a minor position in the British Government."

"A minor position can get a private tour?" Dawn scoffed.

"Perhaps it's a bit bigger than minor," he maintained eye contact: a warning. "And as for Sunday, we will be meeting my brother and his partner for lunch. We will drop the girls off around dinner time."

"Sounds like a busy weekend," Dawn smiled a very fake smile.

"I would loathe for the girls to be bored."

"You mentioned your brother and his partner; are they safe for the girls to be around?" she asked.

"Do you read the papers?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson may be a bit eccentric, but they are safe."

Mycroft watched as Dawn put two and two together.

"You're Sherlock's older brother?" she questioned.

"I am."

"That man used to come and wake us up at all hours, high off of random shit! How in the hell can I trust him around my children? How can I trust  _you_  if you can't even keep your younger sibling out of heroine!"

"Firstly, it was cocaine, not heroine. Second,  _no one_  can control Sherlock Holmes. I was lucky to rein him in. He's been clean for years, besides. And if you raised your children like they need to be raised, they won't feel the need to do drugs," Mycroft wanted to say; only he didn't get the chance, because it was then that Gregory got in the room.

"Dawn, it's time for you to go," Gregory snapped.

"Greg, I-"

"We'll see you on Sunday when we drop off the girls. Other than that, you aren't to be involved in my weekend. Send the gym teacher my regards."

Dawn kissed the girls good bye and left quickly after that.

Greg took a deep breath. "Sorry, girls, I'm a bit protective, but I still shouldn't have done that in front of you. Now, who's excited to get this weekend underway?"


	2. Chapter 2

Friday: Part Two

Adeline rubbed her rear end with a sour expression on her face.

"Horse riding looks easier on the telly," she grumbled.

"Oh stop complaining!" Alexandra giggled. "That was so much fun!"

Greg smiled from where he stood brushing the horse he rode, a mare named Queen Anne. She was pure black, very sleek, and getting on in years. She was over twenty years by now. Mycroft had once explained that she belonged to Sherlock, although he very rarely saw her. She had been born to their father's horse when Sherlock was seven, and he apparently fell in love with the foal. He named her Queen Anne in honor of Blackbeard's infamous ship, Queen Anne's Revenge. Apparently the now-insufferable consulting detective had formerly wanted to be a pirate. This mental image, one of a little Sherlock running around with a plastic sword and trying to beat up his older brother with the weapon, amused Greg to no end, and even now it caused him to giggle.

"It hurt! How do people enjoy that?" Adeline wouldn't let it go.

Mycroft came over, after having finished grooming his horse (stereotypically a white stallion) whose name was Churchill. He looked at Adeline.

"This isn't your sport," he looked mildly disappointed. "It's a shame. It's a rather useful tool."

"Come talk to me when horse riding actually saves a life," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Addie! Attitude," Greg warned.

"It's alright, Gregory. Compared to Sherlock, she's highly respectful," Mycroft grinned. "And, Adeline, you would be surprised."

"My, anyone is respectful compared to Sherlock," Greg still gave a small smile.

Adeline's eyes had widened with Mycroft's statement, and she dropped the subject.

"Well, I don't care what Addie says. That was amazing. Thank you, Mycroft," Alexandra rushed over, hugging her dad's partner.

Since becoming involved with Greg, Mycroft had gotten more used to physical contact on a regular basis. However, this contact had only stretched to Greg. Around other people, he did nothing else other than a brisk handshake. He was never a man to wallow in sentiment. He didn't suffer in his childhood for a lack of hugs, as many people thought; he would argue he suffered from too many. His father had never been around, and so his mother tried to shower both her boys in affection. Unfortunately, neither were very tactile people when it came to expressing fondness, but she still tried every day. Mummy Holmes had died years ago, though. Mycroft had never had a girlfriend, or even a female lover, and certainly not a daughter, and suddenly a fourteen year old girl he barely knew was hugging him around the waist, and it took all of his government training to not immediately jump back. He focused a bit on the friendly contact, one done out of appreciation and warmth, and realized the familial feelings weren't bad, despite the initial shock. He wrapped his arms around her gently, if a bit awkwardly, and gave her a little squeeze before she pulled away with a crooked grin.

"Anytime you want to ride, you may. Victoria seemed to take quite a shine to you," he told her honestly.

"Yay," she giggled. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks tinted pink from all the laughing she had done. Her eyes were bright.

Mycroft looked up, meeting Greg's eyes from across the stable. They were shinning with warmth in a way Mycroft hadn't seen before.

"I love you," he mouthed.

Mycroft winked.

"Adeline, I would be willing to bet you will like tomorrow's plans better. Buckingham Palace really is lovely," he said.

The blonde brightened at the mention of the palace.

"Well, anything is better than that!"

"Alright then, Miss Pessimist, let's go get you girls fed," Greg came over, roughing up her hair with a few quick swipes of his hand. She let out an undignified squeal while Alexandra and Mycroft laughed; she tried to smooth it back down, but the damage was already done.

"DAD! Not cool!"

"I'm your dad! I'm not supposed to be cool," he rolled his eyes. "Now come on in."

The girls walked in front of the men. Mycroft and Greg were holding hands as they headed back in.

"I'm very proud of you," Greg nudged Mycroft with his shoulder. "You surprised me back there."

"I have dealt with children before," Mycroft sighed.

"When?" Greg asked, genuinely curious.

"The age difference between Sherlock and me is considerable, approximately eleven years. Our father was absent from our lives on a ready basis. I was the man of the house when he was gone, and, believe it or not, Sherlock and I were once much closer. I was the closest thing he had to a father figure ninety percent of the time," he explained, the pain and anger from years of doing for his brother and himself what their father should have done repressed; he didn't the dam he had created in his mind to break, even as he talked about it. (Sentiment: chemical defect. Useless. Repress. Ignore. Will dissipate soon.)

"Jesus, Mycroft," Greg whistled under his breath. "I had suspicions, but I was never sure…"

"So you see, Gregory, I have been paternal for many years. And although I failed in many areas with Sherlock when he got older, I was a satisfactory stand-in when he was at their ages. Although they are girls and not boys, the basics are the same. And after parenting Sherlock Holmes, anyone else seems like a walk in the park," he teased.

Greg didn't smile genuinely.

"What?"

"You looked wistful. You miss him, the Sherlock you were close to, don't you?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," he wanted to say, but he didn't.

"Leave the past in the past, Gregory, where it belongs. You are my Now. And right now, we have hungry children. Evangeline should have brought food by now," Mycroft said tersely.

Greg sighed. He was used to Mycroft giving him the cold shoulder when it came to emotions. Facts, like he had raised his brother, were just that: facts. Holmeses were good at facts. The emotional parts of it were where things got messy. Greg and John would often talk, when they went to the pub together, about how their boys would become distant in an instant. It was rather like a switch with them. Mycroft once told him that Jim Moriarty called him "The Ice Man," and unfortunately, Greg could see why, in these moments.

"The Doctor should have been with Rose!" Alexandra's voice cut through their bubble of tension.

"The Doctor just gets people hurt! He should just take a vow of celibacy and get it over with!" Adeline's voice got louder as well. "Honestly, Alex, how many women must he hurt before he realizes he's not going to be happy? He should have just gotten with The Master."

"Screw The bloody Master! He-!"

"Alexandra! Adeline! Quit your bickering! It's a bloody show! And Alex, you better watch your language," Greg chastised.

"Sorry, dad!" They called out in unison.

"It's not just a bloody show," Alex huffed a few seconds later.

"I heard that…" Greg tried not to chuckle.

"Mycroft, by the way, who is Evangeline?"

"Oh, she probably told you her false name. It's Anthea."

"Oh…"

XXX

Everyone was lounging in the family room, stretched out on various pieces of leather furniture. They had all been filled with top grade Italian food and had settled in the watch a film before bed. Alex and Addie had chosen the film, The Princess Bride. Mycroft hadn't even known he owned it.

The credits rolled, and Mycroft was surprised he had enjoyed the film as much as he had. He swore Greg rubbed off on him in the oddest of ways. He looked over, though, and noticed the girls were quite tired.

"Come on, then. Time for bed," he stood. "Gregory, shall we show the girls to their rooms?"

Greg looked confused but stood dutifully anyway.

They all walked up the grand staircase, the girls not too tired to marvel at the marble and various different family portraits.

"I had rooms fixed for you while you were out. Though formerly guest rooms, they are now yours. If you would like to compile a list of things you would like, for both practical and décor purposes, I will have them delivered and installed in the rooms for the next time you're with your father. Your bags were also taken up here," Mycroft explained. Greg hadn't known about this; he hadn't heard the call Mycroft made while everyone was getting changed into proper riding attire.

"Wow, um, thank you," Alexandra said.

"You're most welcome," Mycroft said as he opened the door to her room. It was large, had a vaulted ceiling, and French doors to a balcony. He flicked on the light, revealing the baby blue walls and bamboo flooring. The curtains were a complimentary off-white, as were the blankets and pillows on the bed. There was a television mounted on the wall and a desk with a laptop in the corner.

"Oh my god! This is amazing!" Alexandra squealed, hugging both her dad and Mycroft in her excitement.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," Mycroft nodded.

"Yeah, well, um, sleep well, Alex. Love you," Greg kissed her head before she ran and jumped on the bed, a giant smile on her face.

They made their way to the door opposite hers.

"This is yours," Mycroft opened the door. The room was much the same in shape. The differences were that the walls were lavender, and the floors oak, and the bed a rich violet. The television, desk, and laptop, however, were identical.

"What's the door to?" Adeline pointed the wall where the television was mounted.

"Your private bathroom; I figured you would enjoy the privacy more, whereas Alexandra would prefer the view."

"You supposed correctly," she smiled up at him, effectively communicating her thanks. Mycroft recognized how similar they were, and thus he understood her silent language.

"I normally do," he shrugged, a very informal gesture for the very formal man. She just chuckled.

"Thanks, dad," she hugged Greg briefly. "Good night!"

"We're at the end of the hall if you need us, love," Greg said.

"Okay," she waved them off.

After shutting the door, Greg groaned.

"God, she's more of a teenager than my teenager."

"I heard that!" her muffled voice came through the door.

"Good!" he yelled back.

"Come on, darling; let's go to bed," Mycroft grinned mischievously. Greg gulped as he trailed after his partner, holding onto his hand.

"The girls are here," Greg gasped around the mouth that had attached to him the moment they had made it to the sanctuary of their room.

"I can be very quiet when need be. It's you who needs to be concerned," Mycroft pushed him back against their closed door, lips finding Greg's neck instinctively.

"Oh, hell yeah I do. I'm dealing with the devil himself," he gasped.

"Hmm, good point," Mycroft murmured. "Gregory, darling, would you say the devil is the king of Hell?"

"Uhhmmm yeah, uhm. Why?" Greg was very distracted. Mycroft backed away and he left out a little whimper. He met his lover's eyes, but they were cast in shadow. A smirk played on his lips. He let out a sinister chuckle.

"Because, it's time to get on your knees and service your king."


End file.
